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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912437">Skin Deep (I hate what i see/please don't stop looking)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan'>SashaDistan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ambrosia [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Biology, Anal Fingering, Body Horror (tooth loss), Body Worship, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Cockwarming, Come Eating, Come Stuffing, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Gratuitous Smut, Half-Galra Keith (Voltron), Hand Feeding, Light Dom/sub, Light objectification, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Fixation, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Purring Keith (Voltron), Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shiro's (Voltron) Prosthetic is Tasty, Soft sex, Teething, Top Shiro (Voltron), Very Light Come Inflation, Wet &amp; Messy, claiming/mating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:01:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Keith wakes up with a headache, purple skin, and his canine teeth falling out, he doesn't know what's going on. So he does the smart thing, and gets a sentient spaceship to help him hide from his boyfriend.<br/>It's not a great long term solution though...</p><p>Or: the one where Keith has Galra puberty, and Shiro turns out to be <em>super</em> into it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ambrosia [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>577</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Skin Deep (I hate what i see/please don't stop looking)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is literally just an excuse for the last three paragraphs of fluff. Everything else was accidental.</p><p>Technically this is a follow up to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058587">Gift Box</a>, where Sheith FINALLY get it together after Kosmo sticks Keith and Shiro together in a storage compartment, though nothing from that fic is relevant to enjoy this one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Keith wakes up to a headache and an empty bed. He rolls over, but the sheets are cold, which either means he's slept late or that Shiro has snuck off to deal with 'emergency' paperwork that he really should know how to delegate by now. One blink later and Keith decides this is good thing, because he doubts he’s fun company for his boyfriend this morning. The groan he produces is distressed enough for Atlas to make a ping of concern through his PADD.</p><p class="western">“I’m fine,” is what he tries to say. What comes out of his mouth is actually, ‘mmm fimphh’ and then he goes to draw breath and chokes.</p><p class="western">Something is blocking his throat.</p><p class="western">Keith panics, twists, flips in the bed not caring about the sheets or the blankets or the fact that something has just been knocked off the nightstand and gone crashing to the floor. His lungs heave and his throat constricts, all the muscles of his abdomen tensing as he braces himself on his forearms and hacks up a cough which sounds like it belongs to a distressed lion. And then whatever it was is dislodged and he can breathe again. He snarls and spits into the sheets before slumping into the mattress, panting.</p><p class="western">Atlas makes another chirrup of distress.</p><p class="western">“No, don’t send for Shiro. I’m OK.” His words are slurred, his mouth feels weird, and wet. What did he spit out? Keith opens his eyes.</p><p class="western">Blood.</p><p class="western">Blood and something small and hard and white right in front of his face. It takes him a long time to recognise it for what it is – especially considering he’s spent a great deal of time brushing it twice a day, every day, for the whole of his life. It’s a tooth. His tooth.</p><p class="western">What. The. Fuck.</p><p class="western">Automatically Keith tongues at the familiar, previously unbroken line of his teeth, working the tip of the muscle into the dips and bumps of each molar and pre-molar in turn, and then hisses when he reaches the place where his canine should be to find a tender hole, tasting of sweet copper blood. He stares at the tooth.</p><p class="western">It looks perfectly healthy, clean and white with only the usual hints of slight yellowing which come with a lack of desire to floss – who after all, apart from Lance, <em>likes</em> to floss?– and a touch of blood on the surprisingly long roots. There is nothing outwardly wrong with it, so why did it fall out? As Keith thinks he continues the sweep of his teeth with his tongue he reaches his other canine. He pushes against the smooth enamel.</p><p class="western">It wobbles.</p><p class="western">Terror grips him and Keith goes scrambling out of bed, stuff flying everywhere in his haste to reach the bathroom and the nearest mirror. He bangs his shoulder painfully into the doorway, clips his elbow on the sink, and his head is pounding like he’s been sleeping in a munitions factory. What he sees in the mirror makes his stomach twist.</p><p class="western">He’s purple. Not all over, and not deeply, but around the edges of his eyes and his hairline and his lips, his skin is purple. He tugs at the collar of his sleep shirt, and low and behold, there is the slash of the rich amethyst which Shiro loves to kiss when Keith is two orgasms down and they are both sweaty and on the way to being happily sated. Keith pulls the front of his pyjamas down, just to check.</p><p class="western">He’s not even fucking hard, so why is he purple?</p><p class="western">And least his cock still looks normal and human, and the stripes which span his hips and upper thighs haven’t appeared. What the heck is going on? Automatically, he returns to prod at the empty space in his mouth where his tooth should be. There is more blood. He sucks, lips pursed, and spits into the sink. When he goes to repeat the motion there is a sensation of snapping, a quick flash of pain, and fresh, hot blood floods his mouth.</p><p class="western">Keith spits, and his other canine tooth rattles down into the bloodied sink. Keith staggers, catching himself on the sink. Something is clearly wrong with him.</p><p class="western">Half a varga, one roasting hot shower and a very careful brushing of his teeth later, Keith drinks his breakfast because his mouth hurts too much to even consider chewing anything, and fetches up his PADD to call his mom. When the screen shows the call rerouting through the BOM satellites to headquarters, he snatches up his neckerchief and ties the material hastily around the lower half of his face. It hides most of the damage.</p><p class="western">“Sir.” The Blade who answers the call salutes him quickly. “Commander Keith, can I assist you with anything today?”</p><p class="western">Keith knows better than to ask for his mom. If Krolia was available, she would have answered him. He already knew she was somewhere in the Sumexian galaxy dealing with rogue pirates, because Kosmo went with her on the promise of adventure and hunting.</p><p class="western">“Is Leader available?”</p><p class="western">A quick smirk crosses the Blade’s face before they remember who they are speaking with and rearrange their features into a more neutral expression.</p><p class="western">“I’m afraid he and Antok are… indisposed.”</p><p class="western">“For how long?” Keith doesn’t mean to growl, but it just comes out.</p><p class="western">“He said that if anyone disturbed him for anything other than the actual end of the universe before the end of next movement, he would personally feed them into the black-hole.” The Blade pauses. “Sir, if you want to call him, please do it directly. I don’t want to go in the black-hole.”</p><p class="western">“It’s fine Tr’nne.” Keith does not remember learning the Blade’s name, but apparently he has. “Is Ulaz on base?”</p><p class="western">“He’s on a training exercise with some cadets from the Inter Planetary Task Force, Sir.” Of course he is. Keith has already taught a hand to appendage combat class to the cadets of the newly formed IPTF. “Mixed species field medicine. I can patch you through?” Tr’nne offers helpfully.</p><p class="western">“No no.” Keith waves the offer away. The last thing he needs is for anyone overhearing or walking in on his conversation with Ulaz. “It’s not important. Thank you.”</p><p class="western">“Would you like me to tell Commander Krolia you called when she next checks in?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, thank you.” Keith pauses. It’s not Tr’nne’s fault he feels like shit, and he does have manners even if Lance maintains otherwise. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Go well.”</p><p class="western">“Go well, Commander.”</p><p class="western">The moment he signs off, Keith let’s his PADD thunk onto the desk and his face follows it, forehead hitting the smooth surface with a muffled thud. Something is wrong with him, and it’s got to be a Galra thing, because <em>purple</em>. Anything purple is <em>always</em> a Galra thing. And then he hears the moment Shiro approaches the door to his quarters.</p><p class="western">It’s not Atlas alerting him, but his own senses. He can hear Shiro’s footfalls outside, the gentle crackle of the palm scanner as it reads him, and Keith bolts for the bedroom. He snatches the bloodied sheets up from the bed, stuffs them into the hamper and presses his back to the wall as the main door of the Captain’s quarters begins to slide open.</p><p class="western">“Atlas!” Keith hisses. “Hide me!”</p><p class="western">Usually, Keith would be much more polite to the giant sentient space ship who shares a mental link with his best friend and the love of his life, but there’s no time. Without query, Atlas simply rearranges her walls around him, and Keith finds himself passing briefly through a maze of criss-crossing cables before the wall reforms and dumps him back in his own quarters. Technically, he still has his own room though he hasn’t slept here in months, and it feels instantly weird to be in such an obviously unused space. The comm pad on the wall chimes.</p><p class="western">“Atlas?”</p><p class="western">Atlas doesn’t speak to them out-loud in the Captain’s quarters – she has no need, being able to communicate with Shiro directly – and she and Keith have learnt to talk with a combination of chimes and interventions by Kosmo. But now Atlas’s preferred audible voice – female and accented somewhere between high Altean and British – issues from his comm.</p><p class="western">“Do you not wish to see the Captain?”</p><p class="western">“I- um- no?”</p><p class="western">“Is this like the birthday incident?” Atlas inquires.</p><p class="western">For some reason, Keith is the Paladins go-to when it comes to talking with Atlas, which is ridiculous since she will speak to anyone on the crew or residing within her hull, and Allura is one of her Deputy pilots. Gone are the days when only Shiro could run the ship, though she only shares an empathic bond with him. For Shiro’s last birthday, the Paladins arranged him a party, and trying to teach Atlas that sometimes it is OK to keep things from Shiro has been hard work.</p><p class="western">“Um… yes. Yeah, it’s a surprise.”</p><p class="western">“Can I help?” That’s the other thing about Atlas that was completely unexpected to those who haven’t been part mind-melded with a giant robot lion, or with a group of their friends in order to fight a universal war: she loves her Captain. If there are things which can make Shiro happy, she always wants to do them. “I can keep secrets now, Keith.”</p><p class="western">“Yes Atlas. I know. Thank you.” Keith leans heavily against the wall by the comm, feeling around his mouth with the tip of his tongue and swallowing the mixed spit and blood which makes everything taste bright and metallic. “Do you have the ship’s manifesto available?”</p><p class="western">“Of course. There are two-hundred-and-twelve crew and seventy-eight passengers currently on board.”</p><p class="western">“Any of the Blades?”</p><p class="western">“Only yourself.” Atlas pauses, as though thinking. Keith knows she only needs milliseconds to decide and research whatever point she is going to make next, and he appreciates that she has learnt to give less-smart species the time between thoughts to keep up. “There are seven other Galra on board, besides yourself. Is that helpful?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. Thank you, Atlas. Can you pull the names up on the screen please?”</p><p class="western">“Of course, Keith. Captain is asking for you-” She always calls Shiro ‘Captain’ and it’s sweetly endearing somehow. “-what would you like me to tell him?”</p><p class="western">“Tell him I’ll meet him on the training mats later. I just have to... do some stuff first.”</p><p class="western">Atlas chimes in affirmative response, and Keith swears he can feel her presence leave as she turns her conscious attention towards other things. He clenches both fists, releases the grip slowly, and checks the roster on his comm. Of the seven Galra civilians on board, four of them are complete strangers to him, two are trade delegates from New Daibazaal he has been introduced to before in a formal capacity but doesn’t know, and one is-</p><p class="western">
  <em>Oh no.</em>
</p><p class="western">Keith couldn’t cope with the idea of asking Ulaz for help in front of other people, and now he realises he should have pushed through the embarrassment of calling Antok and Kolivan on their sexcation, because the only person on the ship with Galra heritage who Keith actually knows is Lotor. Lotor, fresh from completing his penance rebuilding New Altea, who has been on the Atlas ever since they touched down on the shiny Altean homeworld last phoeb, and who’s attempts to flirt with and woo Allura have been causing Keith no end of Lance-shaped grief. Keith doesn’t see why she should pick either of them, and he certainly does not want to be involved.</p><p class="western">For a fleeting second, Keith wonders if he may as well find Matt and see if the scientist has any ideas why he is purple and why his teeth are falling out. After all Matt’s seen him naked and freshly post-coital with Shiro, so it’s not like Keith has any shame in front of him. But he knows that telling Matt will instantly lead to Pidge knowing, followed shortly by everyone else, including Shiro. And that’s not an option right now.</p><p class="western">Keith goes to his closet and yanks it open. He’s not slept here in a long time and it shows with how sparse his wardrobe is, but there are a couple of spare Blade uniforms. He pulls one on, making sure the neck, wrist, and ankle cuffs are settled and comfortable before he depresses the compression button and feels the material cling to him like a second skin. He grabs his boots – because of varying Galra and part-Galra foot shapes, all the boots are custom and you get a spare set made as standard – and yanks them on before flicking his hood up over his hair. His mask materialises over his face, rendering him indistinguishable – apart from his height – from any other Blade of Marmora. Not that there are any on board.</p><p class="western">And so – concealed, but sticking out like a sore thumb – Keith exits his quarters, ducks down a service passage, and crosses the ship to the passenger decks. Atlas built and installed the facilities for private citizens and the refugees they assist once she was officially decommissioned from the Garrison. On paper, Keith isn’t sure who actually owns the grandest ship in the Coalition fleet, but he’s not convinced that it matters. Atlas is her own boss.</p><p class="western">All the way there, noises needle at Keith, strange scents assault his nostrils, and the headache he woke up with only grows as he pokes his tongue into the tender sockets where his canines used to be. It’s compulsive, he can’t help himself, even though it hurts. By the time he reaches Lotor’s rooms, Keith is fairly certain one of his lower canines is also lose, but he’s refusing to think about it. He cannot lose a third tooth in less than a varga.</p><p class="western">He punches the button on the entry panel which serves as a doorbell, then glances up at the slot camera above the door, knowing that if Lotor is there, he’ll be able to see him on the comm screen or on his PADD if he’s chosen to hook it up to Atlas’ systems.</p><p class="western">Lotor’s door swishes open, and Keith ducks inside quickly.</p><p class="western">“The Blade of Marmora…” Lotor is lounging on his bed, apparently perfectly content to laze around naked with his yard-long hair pooling on the mattress. “What an honour to receive you in my chambers.”</p><p class="western">“Fuck. Will you please put some clothes on?”</p><p class="western">Lotor flicks the sheet up across his lap, which is apparently all the modesty he feels he owes anyone. Lotor’s aversion to clothes is something all his own, and Keith is grateful that none of the other Galra he’s met are happy to wander around publicly in the buff.</p><p class="western">“Good morning, Keith.”</p><p class="western">“Yeah. Sure.”</p><p class="western">Lotor arches one perfect eyebrow.</p><p class="western">“Why are you here in full uniform? The alarm hasn’t sounded… is something wrong?” Lotor’s rising worry causes him to stand from the bed, the sheets dropping once again. Keith spins on his heel, covering the lenses on his mask with one palm. “Is Allura alright?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, Allura is fine. Nothing is wrong on the Atlas. <em>Will you please put some clothes on?!</em>”</p><p class="western">“Fine fine.”</p><p class="western">Keith doesn’t watch as Lotor wafts towards his wardrobe and slips into a richly embroidered silk robe. The end of the war has allowed lots of things to happen, but one of the most interesting has been the discovery that there are in fact Galra fashions not dedicated to skin tight space armour. On the occasions when he is dressed, Lotor seems to want to take advantage of them all. He sprawls himself once more across the bed, and beckons Keith forward.</p><p class="western">“Well, what’s the matter? And what’s with the uniform?</p><p class="western">“You won’t laugh?”</p><p class="western">That makes Lotor frown, genuine concern flitting across his features.</p><p class="western">“Keith?”</p><p class="western">Keith inhales a deep breath, then yanks the hood back from his head, his mask dissipating in a bloom of cultured quintessence as he does so. He decompresses the suit, and yanks the material askew at the shoulder to show off the most accessible of his purple stripes. A quick glance shows him that it is darker now, and the soft lilac bloom over his skin has spread too.</p><p class="western">“Lotor, what’s wrong with me?”</p><p class="western">To his complete lack of surprise, Lotor bursts out laughing. He stops pretty quickly when Keith throws the nearest object – white, spherical, intricately carved and shimmering with some soft pearlescent alien energy he’s never seen before – at his head.</p><p class="western">“Whoa, whoa. Calm done! It’s just <em>druga premanza. </em>I think you call it… puberty?”</p><p class="western">Keith gapes at him.</p><p class="western">“Ahh, and I see your teeth have come lose. Mine hurt so much, could barely eat anything. Are you getting lower ones too?”</p><p class="western">“What?” Keith raises a hand quickly to hide his mouth, though he isn’t sure why. “What the fuck do you mean, <em>puberty</em>? I’m twenty-three years old! And… but… on the space whale…”</p><p class="western">He’d spent two years on the space whale, come back taller, stronger, a better warrior in every way. He’d had to – after seeing snippets of the future and knowing that he was going to need to fight to save the man he loved – and he doesn’t regret it for a second. Lance had made some stupid joke some evening over Paladin movie night when Hunk and Pidge were arguing over what to watch about Keith having had a glow up, and Keith had just shrugged, and thought no more about it.</p><p class="western">“You were what, nineteen when you got on?” Lotor smiles softly, almost pitying. “I’d wager that was just a normal human growth spurt combined with training hard with you mom.” His expression turns sly. “Where is the Lady Krolia by the way?”</p><p class="western">Keith glares at him.</p><p class="western">“Do not look at my mother like that or I will end you.”</p><p class="western">“And I believe it,” Lotor assures him seriously. “No Keith, there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s normal.”</p><p class="western">“But…” Keith pauses, tonguing the spaces where his teeth are supposed to be. There is another tang of blood is his mouth. “But what is this?” He pulls aside his upper lip, hating the way his mouth feels without his teeth.</p><p class="western">“Fangs, baby! About time you finally got them. Oh, I wonder who won the betting pool on this one-”</p><p class="western">But Keith doesn’t hear the rest of what Lotor says, because his mind reels – fangs? And in a flash he sees the way he looked the last time Shiro fucked him in the bathroom, forcing him to face the mirror and see his reflection as he went feral and unable to talk. He stomach lurches, and Keith shoves his way past Lotor – full of concern – to the bathroom. He retches over the sink, coughing up mixed blood and bile, and then feels an all too familiar jolt of sudden pain in his jaw. He spits, and his lower canine rattles into Lotor’s sink.</p><p class="western">“Top <em>and</em> bottom fangs. We’ll match!” Lotor stands over his shoulder, grinning at his reflection, showing off his long, sharp, bright white teeth.</p><p class="western">Keith shudders, and his grip on the edge of the sink makes the panelling creek. Beside him, Lotor frowns gently, a large, warm palm coming to rest between his shoulder blades. When their eyes meet in the reflection, Lotor reads the expression on Keith’s face too well. Keith had forgotten how perceptive the now-abdicated Prince of the Galra is.</p><p class="western">“You already know what you’re going to look like, don’t you?” Lotor claps his hands in excitement and pulls Keith away from the mess in the sink with a bright smile. “Tell me, tell me! Does it come out when you fight? That’s usually how it starts.” Lotor turns Keith by his shoulders and ducks to search his face. “Or is it something else? Oh! Something… hotter?”</p><p class="western">“NO!”</p><p class="western">Visceral fear rips up through Keith’s spine and he jerks away from Lotor and flees into the main room. Once there, his only choices are to pull his mask back on and run away from the only person on board who might be able to help him, or stay. He inhales deeply, sinking his face into his hands as he takes note of all the things – Lotor’s soap, and his perfume, and the recycled air with just a touch too much nitrogen – he can smell and taste which he shouldn’t be able to. He can’t live in his Blade uniform, and even if he could, it’s not like his face is the only thing which has changed.</p><p class="western">Lotor finds him hunched over on the end of the bed, looking utterly miserable.</p><p class="western">“I’m right aren’t I?”</p><p class="western">“Is it important?” Keith utters, knowing his words act as confirmation.</p><p class="western">“You haven’t told Shiro, have you?”</p><p class="western">Keith glares at Lotor.</p><p class="western">“How could I have told him? I didn’t even know what was happening – I still don’t really – that’s why I came to see you!”</p><p class="western">The bed dips as Lotor sits beside him, one large purple, claw tipped hand open on the bed between them. Keith pulls the sleeve of his uniform loose, discarding his glove, and places his own hand beside Lotor’s. The difference in their skin tone is minimal.</p><p class="western">He sighs. It’s going to be a long day.</p><p class="western">*</p><p class="western">“Hey, sorry I’m late. I haven’t seen you all day and-” Shiro stops, half way through removing his uniform jacket, and frowns. “Keith?”</p><p class="western">“Hey.”</p><p class="western">“Did I miss a memo? Was I supposed to bring my <em>other</em> uniform?” Shiro arches an eyebrow at him, and Keith rolls his eyes – not that Shiro can see that through his Blade mask.</p><p class="western">The idea of sparring with Shiro in his Atlas space armour is very inspiring, but Shiro in his usual workout gear is distracting enough. When his boyfriend steps up onto the mat, Keith inhales and he can taste a dozen things on the air, but most important of all is Shiro’s natural scent: cedarwood and white musk and a spicy heat that makes Keith’s heart thunder. Shiro rakes Keith with his eyes, and Keith wants to preen. He’s always liked the way his Blade uniform fits him, and he knows Shiro does too. Being able to sense that lust from this distance only serves to heighten his own arousal.</p><p class="western">“You’re good.”</p><p class="western">“Missed you today.” Shiro says conversationally as they begin to circle each other. “If I’d realised you had training exercises with the Blades, I would have woken you up before I left this morning.”</p><p class="western">“You can make it up to me.” Keith turns under Shiro’s arm and smirks behind his mask. “If you can catch me that is.”</p><p class="western">“Oh, it’s like that, is it Spitfire?” Shiro quips, twisting to keep Keith in view.</p><p class="western">“I thought you liked a challenge, Captain?”</p><p class="western">Shiro grins, huffing out a breath which is like a growl, and then launches himself at Keith.</p><p class="western">The spar is good, familiar, they are well used to each other these days, and it’s comforting for Keith to bring his foot up just so, knowing Shiro will catch him and that he’ll be able to use the force to twist around until he’s back in position. He springs up straight into a block, Shiro’s half-pulled blows skidding away down his forearms. They circle and turn, closing the space between them, and in the gap between breathes Keith makes for a grab of Shiro’s natural arm, using the momentum to pull his larger opponent up over his shoulder, slamming him to the ground.</p><p class="western">But Shiro has a grip of his own, and Keith is yanked off his feet, cartwheeling over Shiro’s prone form and following him down. For a big guy, Shiro is fast and agile, and he wraps Keith’s leg with one of his own, pulling his hips wide before he flips them both, pressing Keith’s chest down into the mat. His free hand reaches up for the back of Keith’s hood and Keith panics. If Shiro pulls off his hood, his mask will vanish and he’ll be exposed with his purple skin and gold tinted eyes and the three fucking holes in his mouth where there should be teeth. He can’t, he’s not ready.</p><p class="western">Keith bucks underneath his boyfriend, doing his best to throw Shiro off his back and the motion forces Shiro to use both hands to control him. He pushes Keith into the mat, bearing down with his full weight.</p><p class="western">“Not ready to yield yet, Spitfire?”</p><p class="western">Keith doesn’t answer, but rolls his hips again. Shiro is hot and firm above him, the position is familiar enough, and he needs the distraction. Keith pants inside his mask and squirms blatantly.</p><p class="western">“Fuck. Keith…” Shiro returns the grind, and the grip on his forearm and shoulder changes into a bracing hold rather than a pinning one. Shiro leans down and hisses into his ear. “What are you trying to make me do to you, Spitfire?”</p><p class="western">Keith rocks up into him, feeling the undeniable length of Shiro cock nudging in between his cheeks as he does, and some of the tension in his spine unfurls.</p><p class="western">“Not up for the challenge, Captain?”</p><p class="western">The noise of Shiro snapping his teeth shut right beside his face makes Keith shiver. He rolls up his eyes as best as he can from his position to look around. The training rooms are small, semi-secluded with their swing doors and long narrow lines of windows, but hardly private. The next moment Keith’s mind is made up for him as the lights dim – Shiro is clearly talking to Atlas in his head – and his prosthetic hand comes up to Keith’s neck to find the compression button for his suit. The touch is gentle, Shiro’s fingers creeping up to the looser fabric of the hood to caress him, and Keith snarls and bucks once more, putting all his force into it.</p><p class="western">Shiro snarls, and for a moment it’s all a disorganised tussle as Keith tries to throw him off with a believable amount of force. Shiro focuses on getting his hands around Keith's ribs, knees inside his thighs to force Keith’s legs wider apart, splaying him out on the mat until he’s truly and completely pinned.</p><p class="western">“Yield!” Shiro barks, squeezing Keith with enough force to leave fingerprint shaped bruises in his usually pale skin.</p><p class="western">Keith jerks, testing the bonds of the position he’s forced Shiro to put him in.</p><p class="western">“Fuck-!”</p><p class="western">“Yield, Spitfire.” Shiro’s slightly cool polymer fingers make quick work of the opening of his suit, yanking the fabric down to expose the line of his spine, tugging without care until he gets a good handful of Keith ass. “You’ve gotta be good if you want- oh…” Shiro’s voice goes low and dark and more than a little bit stunned as his fingers slide into the crease of Keith’s ass. “… baby. You missed me today too?”</p><p class="western">Because Keith is wet. Shiro’s fingers glide against his skin to his hole, and then Keith growls wordlessly into his mask and the mat as Shiro uses the moisture to push two fingers into his body. Despite the lubrication – and Keith wants to know how the fuck that got there because he certainly didn’t stop on the way from Lotor’s to oil himself up – two of Shiro’s fingers is still a stretch, and Keith yowls at the invasion.</p><p class="western">“Fuck, baby. You’re so wet, and so tight.” Shiro twists his wrist, angling and curving his hand until he strikes his target. Keith arches up into him and whines. “So desperate. Oh Spitfire… been wound up all day and couldn’t even wait to get home?” Shiro strokes over his prostate, pushing and prodding at the sensitive bundle of nerves until Keith feels like his entire universe is drawn down into that single contact. His cock throbs and aches inside his clothes, and even breathing is secondary to the heavy pleasure building deep behind his balls. “Or is it being here? Do you like knowing that anyone could walk in on us right now? You do, don’t you?”</p><p class="western">Keith can’t think, let alone form a coherent answer. He pushes into the curve of Shiro’s big hand, feeling those long fingers spreading him open, whining at the pressure.</p><p class="western">“You want everyone on board to know how fucking good you are at taking my cock, is that it? Proud that no one else is as talented as you… Fuck- Spitfire.” Shiro’s fingers twist inside him again, pushing deeper for a moment before he pulls out. Keith whimpers and his mask isn’t enough to muffle the sound. “Or are you proud that it’s only you who gets to be fucked by the Captain? You wanna show me off, Spitfire?”</p><p class="western">The sound of Keith’s suit tearing brings him back to the present. The fastening doesn’t actually go all the way down past his ass, and rather than tug him out of the sleeves, Shiro has lost patience and used his fancy Altean-Olkari prosthetic to rip through Keith’s spare Blade uniform in his haste to get his cock nudging at Keith’s hole. And Keith doesn’t care how he’s going to get back to his quarters after this, because he can feel Shiro’s pulse where the blunt head of his dick presses against his skin and the sensation makes him shiver.</p><p class="western">“Fucking hell, Keith.” Shiro’s voice drops another octave and Keith’s blood sings with his desire to have Shiro just as snarling and feral as himself. “Fucking look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful. That’s it baby- open up for me. I know you can take it.”</p><p class="western">The first breach is more pain than pleasure despite the slick coating his skin. It always is because Shiro is as gifted between the thighs as he is everywhere else, and Keith clutches at the mat as he feels every inch of Shiro dragging over all his stretched and sensitive nerve endings. The rip of his claws puncturing through both his gloves and the fabric of the padded surface is mostly lost under Shiro’s pleasurable groan.</p><p class="western">“Good boy. So good for me Spitfire, every time.” Shiro leans up away from him a little, and Keith knows he’s being examined. Shiro loves to look at him – all the time – but especially when they fuck. “Look how sweet and tight you are opening up for me. You want me to fuck you until you come in your suit, hmmm? Or do you want to leave the evidence all over the floor, make sure everyone knows only you get reamed hard enough to come untouched in the gym?”</p><p class="western">Fuck, Keith had nearly forgotten when they were. But the reminder comes flooding in along with the next pull back and long, deep thrust of Shiro’s cock, because light pours across them from the narrow windows which join this training room to the one next door. The windows are high enough that a person would have to stand right near the wall to look through to the other side, but it’s a definite possibility. Voices, speaking both Altean and Terran – Atlas’s two official languages – filter through the wall. What’s being said doesn’t matter much, and Keith can’t concentrate on it anyway, because Shiro is hunched low over him once more, grinding his cock so deep that Keith swears there’s no part of him not getting mercilessly fucked as Shiro growls in his ear.</p><p class="western">“They’re right next door. What do you think Spitfire, should we stop?” Shiro clearly has no intention of doing so, because he reaches around to close his hand over Keith’s cock through the material of his suit, and begins to stroke him in time with the grind of his hips. “And what if they came to the window and saw us? I don’t think you’d want me to stop, would you baby? You want everyone to know how fucking good you are, how I’m the only one who gets to touch you.” The words are accompanied by a squeeze around the head of his cock which is borderline painful and fucking delicious at the same time. Keith moans. “That’s right baby. Be loud for me. Let’s show everyone how fucking pretty you sound when you come on my cock.”</p><p class="western">Keith shudders, his hips jerking as he tries to fuck himself into Shiro’s hand, only for the bigger man’s grip to vanish. Instead, Shiro wraps both hands around his hips – making a pleased grunt at the sight of himself encircling Keith so completely – and tugs Keith back into his lap with enough force to make Keith wail.</p><p class="western">“That’s right Spitfire, take it all for me baby. <em>Fuck</em>, so good and tight and hot. Such a good boy.”</p><p class="western">Shiro is getting breathless with his pleasure, but no one has self-control like Shiro does. Shiro will make him come first, even if they do get walked in on by the entire crew of the Atlas. Keith doesn’t know why the thought of Shiro continuing to fuck him with his colleagues and subordinates watching makes his skin prickle with heat and sweat, but it does. Shiro is single minded in his purpose, and right now, his purpose is making Keith happy and sated. Keith bites his lip and keens behind his Blade mask, his thighs quivering as he is forced wider, displaying himself for Shiro and whoever else might wander in to this part of the gym.</p><p class="western">“Pretty Keith,” Shiro coos in his ear and angles his hips on the next thrust to slam into Keith’s prostate hard enough for Keith to see stars behind his mask. He scrabbles at the floor, the mats shredding under his claws, and his vision goes gold around the edges as he comes. “My Keith, there you go. Good boy.”</p><p class="western">There is a moment of stillness where Keith is boneless and strung out, where nothing exists but the hot, sated feeling in his belly, because he is with the man he loves and he’s just come and nothing else matters. But Shiro isn’t done, and he’s not in the mood to give Keith respite. One large hand presses down between his shoulder blades, forcing his face, or his mask, tight against the floor even as the jolt of Shiro’s hips keeps his arse raised. The dip and curve of Keith’s spine puts him completely at Shiro’s mercy, dependant on his every whim, and when one of those long powerful fingers creeps up under his hood to press against the pressure point of his throat, Keith gasps with the sudden flood of pleasure.</p><p class="western">“That’s it, Spitfire. Remember who you belong to.” Shiro fucks into him harder than before, with enough force to shunt him across the floor if he wasn’t so effectively pinned down. “You’re all mine Keith. Gonna fill you up with my come and keep it stuffed inside you until we get back to our bed.” Keith doesn’t ask how Shiro’s going to accomplish that, but his boyfriend is plenty creative and very resourceful. If he wants it, he’ll find a way. “<em>Then</em> you’ll be wet and ready for me to play with later. Gonna have you screaming my name by the time we’re done.”</p><p class="western">Keith whimpers. He’s hard again already. Shiro knows exactly which buttons to push with him. Shiro’s biggest kink – playing with Keith until he’s feral and oversensitive and unable to do anything other than sprawl across the bed and be a warm hole for Shiro to get off in – is the one which brings Keith great bliss too. He whines.</p><p class="western">“Get you all flushed and bright eyed with my cock in that pretty mouth maybe…” Shiro thrusts harder, less regulated. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Spitfire.”</p><p class="western">Keith imagines Shiro thumbing across his lips, smearing pre directly from his cock against his cheek and jaw, pushing in and moulding Keith to his liking. And then he remembers what Shiro will see when he opens Keith’s mouth with his thick, dexterous fingers, and Keith clenches in panic.</p><p class="western">“Fuck! Yes- baby…” The grip around the base of his throat tightens, one big thumb pressing tight against the nub of Keith’s spine, and then Shiro slam into him with all the force of a thrown punch, jaw snapping shut, panting and stiff as he comes in near silence. Keith can feel him everywhere, the way his cock pulses with his orgasm, the heat and wetness spilling inside him, marking him as Shiro’s.</p><p class="western">Shiro’s hand slips off his neck, bracing his larger body against the ruined training mat as he stops himself from fully crushing Keith, lips and teeth resting against the exposed skin at the back of his neck, breath hot and wet on the skin there. Shiro licks at him, tasting his sweat, and Keith shivers bodily. Shiro doesn’t pull out – despite how loud they might have been, despite the fact they are in public – because Shiro never pulls out right away. He rocks his hips, grinding the girth of his cock in Keith’s sensitive hole, making sure to spread his seed around. The squelch is obscenely loud.</p><p class="western">“Fuck, Spitfire. You feel amazing.” Shiro purrs against the back of his neck. “Such a good boy. Don’t worry beautiful, I haven’t forgotten about you.” Shiro reaches into Keith’s ruined uniform and wraps his prosthetic hand around his cock. He thumbs the head, gathering the fluids, before dragging them down over each of Keith’s ridges. “That was fast-” It usually takes two orgasms for Keith’s Galra features to come out quite so strongly. “-you close baby?”</p><p class="western">Keith whines needily.</p><p class="western">In half a breath, Shiro changes his grip, his natural arm sliding up under Keith’s ribs to press over his sternum, and Shiro pulls Keith onto his chest as he rolls. Keith goes, but then finds a strong leg hooked over his own, keeping his thighs splayed even as Shiro uses the change in angles to thrust deeply once more into Keith’s tender hole. Shiro flicks his thumb over the slit of Keith’s erection making him whimper with the sensation.</p><p class="western">“That’s right baby. Gonna come again with my cock in you? I’ll just stay here and stir up my come until you can’t take it any more, until you’ve forgotten to care if anyone walks in and sees just how good the Captain of the Atlas fucks the Commander of the Blades.” Strong, solid fingers wrap around his length, stroking with long, unhurried motions which are some form of torture to Keith’s oversensitive flesh.</p><p class="western">Keith snaps his teeth together and tastes blood.</p><p class="western">“Wish we had a mirror. I wanna see how pretty my Spitfire is; how eager you are for my cock.”</p><p class="western">Before Keith can react, Shiro’s free hand has roamed up to his face, yanking his hood back; the mask dissipating automatically. Shiro’s fingers stroke down the exposed column of his throat before gripping his jaw, twisting Keith so that Shiro can whisper in his ear as he gets him off.</p><p class="western">“So beautiful baby. Such a good boy. See how well you’re doing, how slick and wet you are with my come inside you. I’m so proud of you Spitfire, look how far you’ve come…”</p><p class="western">If Shiro’s biggest kink is playing with Keith and his mess until he’s strung out and helpless, then Keith’s is any kind of praise from Shiro. But especially, praise whispered in-between panted breaths, Shiro’s voice warm and wet against the shell of his ear. Keith can feel the way he blushes, his cheeks hot with the pleasure and shame of what’s being said to him, and the next tight pull of his cock sends him over the edge, keening out between clenched teeth despite the pain in his jaw.</p><p class="western">For one long glorious moment, absolutely nothing else exists.</p><p class="western">And then the fingers on his jaw turn Keith’s face to kiss him, Shiro might be a forceful lover but he is also a romantic sap and this is probably the longest they’ve ever been together in one place and conscious without making out. The resulting chill and terror which rips through Keith’s mind is like having his cock and his brain both doused in ice.</p><p class="western">He bolts, scrambling away, Shiro’s cock leaving his body with a lewd slurp as Keith rolls up into a crouch and takes the first leap to get away. But Shiro isn’t the best fully human fighter any of them have ever faced for nothing, and his prosthetic hand snags around Keith’s ankle, jerking him off balance. They scuffle, and this time there is no act. Keith knows Shiro can see his face but he keeps his lips resolutely clamped shut as he wrestles with his boyfriend to get away.</p><p class="western">But Shiro is bigger, stronger, and apparently more determined. Keith’s skull thumps back into the ruined training mat with a painful thud. Shiro has him by the wrists, knees tight either side of his hips. Keith is pinned.</p><p class="western">“Baby?”</p><p class="western">Keith says nothing.</p><p class="western">“Keith… open your mouth.”</p><p class="western">Keith shakes his head violently. His vision is sharp in that way which he knows means slit pupils and yellow sclera. Shiro’s brow furrows, soft white strands of hair falling into his eyes.</p><p class="western">“Open, Spitfire.” After the shortest of pauses, Shiro’s concern turns hard, his eyes dark. “Don’t be a brat. You know I can make you.”</p><p class="western">And he can. Not just with force, but because Keith is as devoted to Shiro as it is possible to be, and he knows that eventually, he will do everything Shiro demands.</p><p class="western">Keith blushes hard. It is humiliating – not just because his clothes are ruined, his hair disarrayed, and that Shiro’s come leaks out of him and onto the mat below – but because it has taken all of this to get Keith to share what’s happening to him with the most important person in his universe. A normal boyfriend would have gone to Shiro with problems first, not last, and Keith screws his eyes shut as he opens his jaw to show his missing teeth. He whimpers, tonguing his last remaining lower canine, wincing at the rocking motion and the sharp flash of pain before it comes away into the hand Shiro has raised automatically to his lips.</p><p class="western">Keith turns and spits blood onto the floor.</p><p class="western">“Keith...”</p><p class="western">And it would be easy to pretend that this is like any other time his skin is flushed purple and his body is decorated with stripes, because then Keith wouldn’t need to say anything, and he could wallow in his misery for another varga or so without having to explain. But this isn’t like any other time. Keith might have claws, pointed ears, and yellow eyes, but he can still talk.</p><p class="western">“Shiro.” Shiro looks shocked by the words falling from his lips. “Shi-I’m s-s-sorry…”</p><p class="western">Keith wants to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the welling spring of tears which make his vision blur in the space of one blink. He turns away, wishing he could just sink through the floor and away from the concern in Shiro’s eyes. His boyfriend thinks there’s something wrong with him. How is he going to react when he discovers that there’s nothing wrong with Keith, and the fair-skinned, human-looking boy he fell in love with is gone forever?</p><p class="western">“Baby… don’t cry. Oh beautiful, don’t cry please.” Shiro wastes no time it leaning up, pulling Keith along with him until Keith is cradled in his arms and Shiro is on his feet. “Atlas? Home please, without interruptions.”</p><p class="western">Keith knows Shiro is speaking for his benefit, because he would never be so short with Atlas, and anyway, he can talk to her in his head. But after a moment there is a soft chime, and the door of their training room swings open. Shiro steps out into the hallway holding Keith without a care in the universe that people might see them.</p><p class="western">And no one does. Walls have been moved, passages inexplicably created where none existed before, and one section where they have to pass by the main conference rooms finds all the doors showing red locking lights above them, and the plexiglass windows shuttered. Keith knows that those rooms don’t even have shutters – Atlas is resourceful, and dedicated. Without running into a single other being – living or robotic – and with no concern that the ship’s surveillance has recorded them, they enter into the Captain’s quarters and Shiro carries Keith directly through into the bathroom. When he shifts to holding Keith with one strong arm wrapped under his ass in order to turn the shower on, Keith makes a noise of protest.</p><p class="western">“Shiro. I can stand.”</p><p class="western">“Shhh. Let me take care of you, baby.”</p><p class="western">It’s impossible to refuse that tone, warm and enveloping and reassuring, and so Keith just presses his face into Shiro’s shoulder and lets himself be stripped and manoeuvred under the hot water. And it is hot – Shiro likes his showers with a water temperature Keith describes as tepid, but this is roasting exactly the way Keith loves – and Keith knows Shiro did it just for him. The silent gesture makes him press his face into the broad expanse of Shiro’s chest, inhaling his scent as Keith begins to comb through the sparse hairs which swirl around his nipple.</p><p class="western">Shiro asks nothing of him as he turns so that Keith can leans his head back into the stream of the shower. Once his hair is wetted, Shiro wordlessly begins to massage shampoo into Keith’s scalp, and Keith closes his eyes and holds tight to his boyfriend as he is lathered, rinsed, washed and pampered. After the shampoo comes conditioner – this one was picked up on Arus and it smells like someone bottled the forest on a sunny day – and Keith sinks deeper into the plush pillow of Shiro’s pecs as a rumble begins to grow in his chest.</p><p class="western">He is purring.</p><p class="western">He has purred before, a few tics or so here and there. Perhaps a couple times after particularly satisfying orgasms when Shiro has wandered back over with hydration pouches and snacks and Keith’s claw marks decorating his shoulders. But this purr, this is bigger. It builds inside him, louder and deeper than any before, and soon it feels as though all the air inside the shower cubicle vibrates to the timbre of his purring. Shiro’s hands move slower through his hair – no longer washing, just combing the longer strands and skimming up and down his spine – and when Keith dares to glance up his finds the man he loves looking down at him with a smile which can only be described as <em>content</em>. Keith swallows, and the purr hitches in his chest.</p><p class="western">“I love you.”</p><p class="western">Shiro’s smile only gets wider.</p><p class="western">“Keith… I love you too. Atlas says she got us dinner. Would you like to come eat with me?”</p><p class="western">Oh, apparently Shiro isn’t going to push him to explain why he’s purple, or stripey, or has claws. And Keith doesn’t know why he’s surprised, because right from the start, Shiro has never forced him to talk. Shiro waited for the feral little orphan boy to open up to him, and it worked and kept working when Keith became a recalcitrant Cadet and then a wilful Paladin. And it works now that Keith is his half-alien boyfriend, because the words just come spilling out in a tumble.</p><p class="western">“It’s puberty. Again. I’m purple and I can’t change back and I can smell and hear <em>everything</em> and Lotor says I’m going to grow fangs-!” Keith buries his face back into Shiro’s pecs, inhaling deeply and wondering if he can just stay here forever. “And my mouth hurts.”</p><p class="western">Shiro’s big hand moves over his hair, no longer pretending to do anything other than pet him.</p><p class="western">“Atlas says she got you ice cream, and frozen juniberries. Lotor sent her a special request for them, apparently. And there is a message waiting for you on your PADD when you’re ready.”</p><p class="western">“Oh.”</p><p class="western">“So, you want to come cuddle up on the couch with me, Spitfire?” Shiro bites his lower lip, eyes shining. “You don’t even have to get dressed.”</p><p class="western">“Mmmm….” Shiro knows very well how to exploit Keith’s weakness for being nude in private. As soon as Keith had private space of his own, he forwent as many items of clothing as possible. It is still a conundrum to him that Shiro will get up <em>after</em> sex to put fresh boxers on before going to sleep. “OK.”</p><p class="western">“Good boy.”</p><p class="western">Keith allows himself to be manhandled out of the shower and steered into the living room with a thick and fluffy towel draped around his shoulders. True to his word, Shiro not only doesn’t present him with clothes, but also doesn’t don any himself, instead pulling Keith into his lap in order to dry his hair. He still doesn’t ask about the claws, the purple skin, or the fact that Keith is chewing very slowly on a frozen juniberry because his gums ache and he has four teeth missing. Instead, Shiro traces large warm fingers over the patterns of the amethyst purple stripes which decorate Keith’s shoulders, slash over his hips, and curve around the swell of his thighs. He has followed the same motions many times before, but Keith has never been so aware of the touches, so cognisant, or able to talk.</p><p class="western">And because Shiro gives him space, Keith doesn’t want any.</p><p class="western">“I’m Galra now,” he says as he finishes his fruit.</p><p class="western">“You always were, Keith.” Shiro reaches for another juniberry treat from the dish of softly smoking space-ice Atlas has engineered in the centre of the coffee table. “Here, let me.”</p><p class="western">Keith rolls his eyes, and even without looking Shiro can apparently tell, because he tuts softly before pressing a soft kiss to Keith’s nape.</p><p class="western">“Open.”</p><p class="western">Keith obeys. He always obeys Shiro.</p><p class="western">His gums ache, but the iced fruits bring a kind of sharp numbness – like pain but duller – and Keith chews on the juniberry with the left side of his mouth. Shiro hums happily and his softer human fingers begin to stroke over Keith’s stripes again.</p><p class="western">“You’re so pretty baby. I’m so lucky.”</p><p class="western">Keith groans around the frozen treat, switching sides as Shiro crooks his elbow in order to be more comfortable. Keith runs his tongue into the numbed hollow of his lower gum and mourns the loss of his tooth.</p><p class="western">“I can hear you thinking in there again, Keith. I <em>have</em> eyes; you’re beautiful.” The hand on his hip curves around to smooth across his lower belly, thumb circling over the dip of his navel. “And aren’t I the lucky one… I get to have a hot half-alien boyfriend all to myself.”</p><p class="western">“Shi-mmmfffh.” Keith can’t get his boyfriend’s name out in any reasonable manner, not because he’s feral and non-verbal, but because Shiro’s fingers are in his mouth. Half cradling the chilled juniberry, but mostly playing with the plump flesh of Keith’s lower lip and smoothing along the flat sides of his teeth.</p><p class="western">“Shhh… just be good and let me play with you baby.” Shiro purrs against the back of his neck, lips moving up into his hair, nosing his way along until he nips at the sensitive, pointed tip of Keith’s ear. “Fuck Spitfire, you’re so gorgeous. Relax, I just want to touch.”</p><p class="western">The embarrassment which heats his cheeks isn’t strong enough to quell the lust which rises in his loins, and Keith slumps back fully into Shiro’s chest, head lolling on his shoulder. His reaction brings forth a pleased noise from Shiro, and his boyfriend waits until he has chewed and swallowed the remains of the juniberry before sliding his fingers further into Keith’s mouth. The textured polymer exoskin of Shiro’s finger pads press into the dip of his tongue, scooping his saliva before spreading it over his lips. Keith whines when Shiro smudges at his lower lip, distorting the shape, watching over Keith’s shoulder as he keeps his jaw open with his hand. Keith whimpers as Shiro pulls back, a string of saliva connecting fingers to mouth before it breaks, dribbling down his chin.</p><p class="western">Shiro’s fingers return quickly, this time skimming lightly over the edges of his teeth, feeling for the soft and tender edges of his gums and the furrows left by the missing canines. Keith whimpers as Shiro presses closer, turning Keith’s to face him with his free hand.</p><p class="western">“You’re gonna be so sexy with fangs, Keith. And look, they’re coming through already. So sharp and pretty.”</p><p class="western">Shiro stares at his mouth, thumbing across Keith’s lips before shifting forward to lick at his mouth. It’s not a kiss – not like other people kiss, Keith is sure – but Shiro licks at the gap in his teeth, and Keith shivers at the sensation of the tip of Shiro’s tongue pressing against the pointed tip of one of his new fangs, just poking through the reddened gum. Keith whines, a soft, desperate noise and Shiro kisses him more soundly, lips slotting against his own with a pleased rumble. He dissolves under Shiro’s sure grip, pliant and soft as Shiro turns him around. Settling Keith over his lap, licking at his fangs between kisses, hands roaming over his chest and thighs, fixated on the patterns of his stripes. Then Shiro’s prosthetic fingers return to his mouth, pressing against the new teeth, and Keith moans with a different kind of pleasure.</p><p class="western">“Feels good?”</p><p class="western">“Yessfh,” Keith manages, even as he bites down softly on Shiro’s thumb knuckle. His mouth still hurts, his gums are swollen, but the pressure seems to help, switching the dull ache into something pleasurable and warm. “Pleafh?”</p><p class="western">“Of course, beautiful. Whatever you need.” Shiro combs Keith’s bangs away from his face with his softer fingers. “<em>Always</em> whatever you need, my love. My Keith.”</p><p class="western">Shiro bends to kiss him, despite the fact that Keith is still chewing softly on his boyfriend’s hand. It is wet and messy and objectively disgusting, but Keith feels floaty and euphoric. It’s like being drunk, but so much better, because nothing is blurry except for everything outside the tiny bubble which is him and Shiro and everywhere they touch. Keith moans.</p><p class="western">“Oh, <em>baby…</em>”</p><p class="western">Keith shifts his weight, still focused on noming Shiro’s prosthetic, and the motion brings him into contact with Shiro’s cock. From the groan his boyfriend makes, Keith isn’t the only one slightly surprised to find Shiro hard and eager against him. Before he can think of any words to say, the purr kicks up in his chest once more, and Shiro smiles with unbridled pleasure.</p><p class="western">“Pretty one. So lovely and perfect for me. Feeling better?”</p><p class="western">Keith licks and chews at Shiro’s fingers, not caring for the drool which leaks across his jaw, and rocks his hips against Shiro, finding friction in the drag of his cock over his boyfriend’s sculpted abs. He whines through the purr, the rumble increasing in tempo when Shiro wraps a free hand under his ass and proceeds to slip two fingers into his still loosened hole.</p><p class="western">“<em>Fuck</em>- baby… you’re so wet still.” Shiro presses deeper, sliding in smoothly, and Keith clutches around the girth of his fingers. “No, not still… <em>again</em>. Stars Spitfire… I shouldn’t think we’ll ever have to buy lube again.”</p><p class="western">Keith blinks in surprise, his purr hitching for a moment, as he realises what they are both feeling. His body is making him ready for Shiro all by itself, inviting him in, and Keith squirms at the thought. He’s already aroused in his boyfriend’s casually devastating presence often enough, and the mere idea that Shiro really could just yank down his pants and take him anywhere, anytime, has Keith practically vibrating out of his brand-new skin.</p><p class="western">“Well aren’t I the lucky one? You’re so perfect Keith, so good to me and so gorgeous. I can’t wait to show you off, see how jealous everyone else is when they realise they can’t have you, and I get the prettiest guy in the universe all to myself.”</p><p class="western">Keith whimpers, blushing a rich plum colour at the praise. Shiro’s fingers twist inside him, stroking little circles over his prostate until Keith’s claws dig into his shoulders and back.</p><p class="western">“That’s is sweetheart, let it all out. Show me how gorgeous you are when you come.”</p><p class="western">Keith is so close, he can feel his orgasm behind his eyelids and the hot, squirmy tightness in his belly. His cock jerks with his thundering pulse, trailing a string of pearly pre-come onto Shiro’s abs. And he’s still purring.</p><p class="western">“I can hardly wait to get my cock into that pretty mouth of yours baby. Reckon you can purr while you blow me? I bet that feels awesome.”</p><p class="western">The image alone in enough to wipe Keith’s mind of all other thoughts. But then Shiro bends to kiss him properly, pulling his prosthetic hand away at the last moment, and the second their lips press together Keith is undone. He cries into the kiss, shaking and clenching around Shiro’s fingers in his ass as he jerks his hips, cresting wave after wave of pleasure in an orgasm which appears to have no end.</p><p class="western">Eventually it’s Shiro’s proud sigh which brings him back to himself, hazy and blurred around the edges.</p><p class="western">“Look at the mess you made, baby. You came so much. You’re so gorgeous. Such a good boy Keith.”</p><p class="western">Keith whines when Shiro’s fingers slide from his body, shivers when they smear through the cum which paints the both of them, then whimpers when those wet fingers invade him once more. He is as slick as it is possible to be, but Shiro still seems to want more, playing with Keith’s come and the puffy, relaxed muscle of his rim, until he can slide four fingers into Keith’s body without resistance. He rocks Keith into his lap, the tip of his cock hot and hard against Keith’s tender flesh. He slips his hand out and pushes his way in with his dick, smoothly spreading Keith’s cheeks until he is seated fully upon Shiro’s girthy cock.</p><p class="western">“There now, you keep that warm for me, OK baby?”</p><p class="western">Keith nods mutely. There’s no new physical manifestation of his Galra nature now, but he’s somewhere beyond the ability to speak, at least for a little while.</p><p class="western">Shiro’s prosthetic fingers return to Keith’s belly, gathering his come, before pressing at his lips. Keith takes the offering without question, licking and sucking at the digits until the urge is too hard to resist, and he begins once more to teethe and chew on Shiro’s knuckle. The ache in his gums from his new teeth vanishes almost instantly.</p><p class="western">“There’s my good boy.”</p><p class="western">The soft rumble in his chest intensifies again with Shiro’s praise, and Keith squirms a little bit in his boyfriend’s lap. Shiro shushes him wordlessly, settling his warm hand again Keith’s hip, stroking his stripes. The action stops Keith from grinding against the cock inside him, and Keith can’t decide if the denial of friction is a good or bad thing in his over-sensitized state. Instead he turns his face more toward Shiro, eyes have shuttered, and purrs harder as his boyfriend begins to sweep a finger over his tongue.</p><p class="western">“Still hungry, baby?” Shiro doesn’t wait for him to answer, but Keith simply drops his jaw as Shiro’s hand slips away, playing and swirling in the come decorating his skin, before returning to his lips. “Here you go sweetheart. You relax while I keep you full, OK?”</p><p class="western">Keith feels the way his spine turns into liquid with each new motion of Shiro’s fingers in his mouth. His boyfriend alternates between kissing him and licking against his teeth and tongue, pressing his own tongue tip into the raw swollen flesh of Keith’s gums to feel the points of his new fangs. He feeds Keith more of his own come, painting his lips and licking it off, distorting the shape of Keith’s mouth with his fingers only to stare at him with such focus that is makes Keith’s whole body flush, and he has to look away. Then he puts the knuckle of his prosthetic thumb back between Keith’s teeth, and whispers encouragement as Keith begins to chew on him, purring all the while.</p><p class="western">“That’s right baby. Harder- mmmmm, yeah, good boy. Love feeling your tongue on me, getting to play with your pretty mouth. Go on Spitfire, chew. It’ll make you feel better. That’s all I want for my beautiful alien boyfriend. I just want you to feel good.”</p><p class="western">Shiro’s cock – still inside him – rocks in tiny but increasing motions as Shiro gets into his never-ending litany of filthy praise. Keith’s purr does not abate, and each time the tingling sensation of friction against his tender flesh makes the purr stutter, Shiro visibly preens.</p><p class="western">“You’re so good to me, Keith. Being such a good boy keeping my cock warm and safe inside your prefect little body. Look at your stripes, look how prettily they wrap around you. And feel here-” Shiro’s human hand creeps over his arse, squeezing and kneading the plump flesh until he finds where their bodies join, and drags a thick fingertip over Keith’s stretched rim. “-feel how tight you are again around me. Your body knows what it wants, knows you want me inside you, keeping you full.”</p><p class="western">“Shi-”</p><p class="western">“Shh, shh, it’s OK. I want that too. I want to be with you always, baby. I love you so much, Keith. Love how perfectly we suit each other and fit together. You’re perfect, so gorgeous.” Shiro tilts Keith’s face up, exposing his throat, and licks a broad stripe up the thin softly purple skin until he laps messily over Keith’s mouth. “You’re so tight and warm and wet for me. So welcoming. I don’t ever want to leave baby.” Shiro presses his knuckle into Keith’s mouth and instantly he begins to chew, pleasure flooding his senses again. “There’s a good boy. You stay busy right there while I come inside you again, yeah? Fill you up with my come and keep it in with my cock… fuck- stars Keith, I swear your grip onto me harder when you get like this.”</p><p class="western">Keith whimpers over the top of his purr, too strung out to do otherwise, because his body has already adapted to welcome Shiro into him whenever he gets horny. And now the idea that his pelvic floor has changed enough to bring Shiro additional pleasure, as well as perhaps the ability to keep Shiro’s cock inside of him makes Keith’s head spin. And clearly the idea is doing things to Shiro too, because the rolling motion of his hips becomes deeper, though his pace stays languid and indulgent, and Keith clings more tightly to his boyfriend’s chest as he is fucked. Shiro’s prosthetic stays in his mouth the whole time though, and neither of them seem to mind the way Keith drools as he teethes at Shiro’s hand.</p><p class="western">“You feel so good, Spitfire. I know you want it. I can feel how hungry you are for me. You need it don’t you? Need me to pump you full of my seed and plug you up to keep it in.” Keith’s rising purr answers for him, and Shiro makes this soft little chuckle which brings another plum coloured blush to Keith’s cheeks. “Yeah you do. You like that, don’t you baby? You like the idea that I can slide inside you whenever I want. Whenever you need, no prep required.” Keith burns with something in-between desire and shame, because Shiro knows him too well, and Keith does. He wants everything Shiro is offering him. “Makes you hot to think of keeping my cock stuffed inside you for hours, doesn’t it? My come filling you up, keeping all my loads inside you until I’ll be able to see it in you.” Shiro’s human fingers sneak between them, pressing into the taut skin of his lower belly. “I’d keep you so full and satisfied. Only the very best for my Spitfire.”</p><p class="western">“<em>Shiro-!</em>” The purr in Keith’s chest falls away as his voice breaks, “Please! Please ohohhh…”</p><p class="western">“Fuck! Yes, that’s it, baby. Clench around me. You’re so fucking tight. Stars-!” Shiro growls in his ear and the feral noise makes Keith shudder in delight. He can feel the way his body constricts around Shiro even as Shiro’s cock begin to throb with his orgasm. “Yesss, take it. Take it all.” Shiro never speaks when he comes, but now his words are gasped out even as he shudders, unable to draw breath. “Fucking perfect. My perfect Keith. So good baby, such a good boy.”</p><p class="western">Keith rocks helplessly against him, sure that he is already rung dry, but wanting the friction to Shiro’s abs against his cock regardless. Shiro pets across his belly, curving his palm, and makes a pleased noise against Keith’s neck.</p><p class="western">“So full of me. Feels good, right?” Shiro’s thumb wanders up, rubbing along the ridges which line the underside of Keith’s cock, and the moment he places the digit over Keith’s slit, Keith jerks into the contact, his come spurting weakly against Shiro’s hand. “<em>Such</em> a good boy. Thank you, baby.”</p><p class="western">Keith is fairly certain that he’s blind now, his mind empty of everything other than the scent of Shiro and the textures everywhere they touch. They are both wrecked, the couch ruined, and Keith can’t bring himself to care at all. He leans into Shiro, temple resting on his chest, and continues to chew softly at the digits in his mouth.</p><p class="western">Sometime later Shiro strokes his spine, and Keith blinks. He releases Shiro’s hand, aware that his gums no longer hurt as they did before. He flexes and curls his lips, not caring if he looks ridiculous, then runs his tongue all around his gums and teeth. His fangs have definitely come through more now, but they are still a long way from being fully settled in. He raises his hand to wipe at his mouth, but Shiro’s long finger wrap around his wrist to stop him.</p><p class="western">“You really do have a pretty mouth, baby.”</p><p class="western">“Shiro….”</p><p class="western">“I like the teething, for the record. You can munch on me whenever you like.”</p><p class="western">That makes Keith’s nose wrinkle. Good as it was, now that he’s not currently in pain, the idea seems weird. He shifts in Shiro’s lap, and his boyfriend’s soft cock slips from him with a decidedly wet noise.</p><p class="western">“Can I have another shower?”</p><p class="western">“I’ll wipe you down instead.” Shiro presses his thumb to Keith’s lower lip as Keith makes to stand, and sighs wistfully. “I’m gonna miss your mouth though.”</p><p class="western">Keith bites his lip, and winces as the sharpness of his new, still not fully grown fangs. He frowns.</p><p class="western">“You’ll have to learn how to be careful with those fangs when they come in properly, Spitfire.”</p><p class="western">Keith nods, brows lowering as he gazes down at Shiro’s messy abs. He misses having Shiro’s cock in his mouth already too. It was his favourite way to wake up.</p><p class="western">“Will you teach me?”</p><p class="western">Shiro smirks.</p><p class="western">“As often as you like baby.”</p><p class="western">Keith stands, stretching his arms up above his head until his spine pops, twisting his torso under the sweep of Shiro’s warm and cool palms.</p><p class="western">“Not ‘as many times as it takes’?” he queries with a grin of his own. The words earn him a swift and playful smack on the bottom.</p><p class="western">“Don’t be a brat.” Shiro stands, running is fingers through Keith’s hair, and tugs on one of the longer locks as he turns toward their bedroom. “Come, time for bed, kitty.”</p><p class="western">Keith hisses it him, but already his chest is vibrating with a soft purr.</p><p class="western">“Now who’s the brat, Takashi?”</p><p class="western">*</p><p class="western">The bridge crew of the Atlas tend to meet each other in the hallway which links all the flight team’s quarters with the main elevator. They chat as the begin their ascent to the bridge, taking it easy this morning as there is not a night shift whom they will need to relieve. There is no requirement for one whilst they are in a stable orbit around a Coalition planet after all. The fact that most of them know Atlas could run the entire ship herself without any of them at all is something they try not to concentrate on – after all, every one likes job security.</p><p class="western">But the bridge is not empty when the first staff arrive. The Captain is in his chair, the holoscreen lit up in front of him, showing star charts and visualisations of the next leg of their journey through this galaxy. More unusual though, is that he does not greet any of them as they begin to take their seats, and it’s not hard to see why.</p><p class="western">Curled in the Captain’s lap is a small, lithely built, Galra-esque person, wearing Keith Kogane’s clothes. And he is chewing softly on the Captain’s prosthetic hand. The only consideration for this seems to be a small towel which the Captain has lain over his forearm and part of his lap. He pets over the person’s hair, stroking the thick ink-black strands with his human fingers, humming softly to himself.</p><p class="western">The person chewing on the Captain’s prosthetic – and the bridge crew all come to the realisation that it really must be Keith Kogane all at about the same time – is purring. A deep, warm rumble emanates from the Captain’s chair, and the crew shuffle their feet nervously. It feels wrong to interrupt, but they are on shift and this is their workplace.</p><p class="western">Over a variety of silent but meaningful glances, they establish the facts of the situation.</p><p class="western"><em>I see that the Black Paladin is </em>very<em> Galra now. I mean, look at his ears.</em></p><p class="western">
  <em>Ears? Look at his teeth. Fuck.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Galra can’t hear thoughts, right? Everyone says they have super sensitive hearing.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Who do you think won the betting pool?</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>There was a bet? And no one told me!</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Do you think they’ll stop anytime soon?</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I dare you to ask him for coordinates.</em>
</p><p class="western">Slowly, the leading staff members of the bridge crew break each other’s gazes and turn to face their Captain. He hasn’t moved, and neither has the young man in his lap. The fact that the boy with purple skin has golden eyes showing through his long lashes could kill them all without breaking a sweat is not lost on them. The lead helmsman clears his throat nervously.</p><p class="western">Captain Shirogane’s eyes flick up at the noise, his brows lowered, and very quickly every single member of the bridge crew decides that whatever is going on in the Captain’s chair is none of their business.</p><p class="western">Those who want to live unmaimed do not disturb a man in love, or his grumpy, teething, and generally very overprotective half-alien boyfriend.</p><p class="western">Without talking, the crew direct their questions toward Atlas via the holoscreens, and the ship answers them all with her usual polite and firm tone, even though she too is typing her responses. Coordinates are set and approved, the engines come alive under relayed instructions to the engineering hub many levels lower down. Energy from the core crystal is redirected and the Atlas and her crew and passengers begin another day in space.</p><p class="western">Everyone ignores Shiro and Keith.</p><p class="western">Keith chews his boyfriend’s prosthetic knuckle to soothe the ache in his gums, and purrs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please come chat with us on <a href="https://twitter.com/SashaDistan">Twitter</a></p><p>This author responds to comments.</p><p>Thank you to the incredible <a href="https://twitter.com/@leandralena">Lole</a> for being an awesome beta reader.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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